


Gratuity

by ficbear



Series: Gunsel [16]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Clothed Male Naked Male, Exhibitionism, Lawyers, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You like that, don't you?" Holt says, and his voice is so warm with approval that I feel like someone just handed me a bonus cheque. Yeah, I like it, alright, and I'm not going to hold back one bit tonight. He likes his boys shameless, does he? Well, I'll show him shameless. I'm going to make the other boys he's had courtesy of the boss look like a bunch of awkward first-timers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gratuity

"Look at this place." I don't even bother saying hello to Miller. I just walk right up to the window opposite his desk, and I stand there gawping at the view like a tourist. From here I can see right across the river, over the tops of all the new flats and the old factories, right to the edge of town where the grey starts to blur into green. "I thought you guys were supposed to work in dusty basement offices?"

Miller comes up to stand behind me, and when he puts his hand on my shoulder I can't help leaning into it a bit, as if it's just me and him alone in here. As if there aren't half a dozen clerks watching every minute of this while they pretend to be busy dotting their i's and crossing their t's.

"Oh, I've done my time in dingy basements, don't worry," he says, with a crisp little laugh.

"You and me both." I look back over my shoulder and throw him a smirk. "So, what's this job, then? All the old man told me was that it's to do with some lawyer, and that you'd fill me in on the details."

"Of course." Miller smiles, and that hand moves down to rest gently on the middle of my back. "Come and sit down."

There's a soft little cough from behind me, and when I look around there's one of Miller's office boys bringing a chair across from an empty desk. He's thin and reedy, with a kind of scrubbed-clean, freshly-ironed look about him, along with glossy dark hair and a pretty enough face to make me wonder whether it was really his clerical skills that got him hired.

"Here you go," the boy says, with a sweet little smile like I'm someone important. Then he glances at Miller, and that smile gets a whole lot brighter, and all of a sudden I get the feeling I'm important, but I'm not _that_ important.

I thank the kid and sit down. "So, this lawyer…"

"Anthony Holt."

"Alright, this Holt," I say, shrugging. "Does he need paying off or scaring off?"

"Neither. He needs to be tempted." Miller steeples his fingers, and I start bracing myself for the long speech I reckon he's gearing up for. "Mr Holt is on Uncle Jack's list."

While he's talking, the boy with the sweet smile comes back over and sets two cups of tea down on the desk. Miller doesn't even look at the kid, he just keeps on talking as if there's no-one there at all, like the boy's just part of the furniture. Just like the boss would.

"In fact, he's at the top of the list," Miller says, picking up his cup and taking a sip, "and he has been for years."

" _Years_?" I scoff. "That doesn't make any sense, no-one's name stays on the list for long. He spots you, he decides he wants you, and then it's either 'welcome aboard', or 'sorry you feel that way' and a visit from one of Joe's guys. One way or the other, _you get crossed-off_."

"You're quite right." Miller smiles at me, and suddenly I feel like he's got me dangling on the end of a line. "For most people, that's exactly how it goes, but Mr Holt is a special case."

I drink a bit of my tea, and when I glance across to the other side of the office, I can see that boy watching us—well, watching Miller—like a nervous little dog. I bet if Miller so much as raised an eyebrow, the kid would be over here like a shot, probably with a pencil and paper ready to take down his next set of instructions. It makes me smirk, but I've got to admit, I wouldn't mind being in Miller's shoes.

"It's the principle of the thing," Miller carries on. "Uncle Jack wants him to come to us of his own accord. So for him, the offer is an open one, and it'll remain open until he accepts."

"Yeah, but _will_ he accept?"

"Perhaps," Miller laughs. "There's a first time for everything."

 

* * *

 

The amount of detail Miller went in to when he was giving me the lowdown on Holt, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd got a file on this guy tucked away somewhere. He talked all the way here, and now I probably know more about Holt than the local coppers do. He's 41, just short of six feet tall, and heavyset. He did his degree down south and then moved back up here in his late 20s, which is when he caught the boss's eye. He's not exactly clean, and not exactly dirty. He takes jobs from both sides, and he's about as likely to end up prosecuting you as defending you, but either way, he usually wins. He's—well, there was a lot more of business side of things that I could probably remember if I tried hard enough, but that's neither here nor there. What matters to me is that Holt's got a taste for younger guys, that he likes them brash and shameless, and that he's partial to a bit of a show. That's all I need to know to take care of my side of things.

"Let me do the talking, at first," Miller says, as we get into the lift.

"Sure, you handle the sweet-talking." I smirk at him and lean back against the wall. "I'll have my mouth full before you've finished your spiel, anyway."

"You can't wait to get started, can you?" he laughs, but I can see how much he likes that idea. His eyes are sharp and hard, and I can feel them on me like a cold wind.

"I could get started right now." I say, toying with the top button of my jacket. There's just the two of us in the lift, just us and the big mirror on the back wall, and if I wasn't on a job I'd be all over him right now.

He comes up close, so I'm stuck between him and the wall, close enough that I have to tip my head up to look at him. "You're incorrigible," he says, and all of a sudden the inch of air between us feels like it's seething hot. "I don't know why Uncle Jack bothers paying you."

"Oh, I get paid, do I?" I ratchet that smirk up a few levels, and I'm just gearing up to really start needling Miller when the lift doors open.

"Not if you don't perform to the standard I expect," he says, walking off ahead of me.

I follow him down the corridor, and when we get to the right door I reach out to ring the bell, but Miller grabs hold of my wrist and stops me.

"Second thoughts?" I say, leaving my wrist where it is.

He smiles, and turns me around by the shoulders so I'm facing him. "Just making sure you're fit for purpose."

He looks me up and down again, the way he did when I picked him up. I don't know how dishevelled he thinks I could've gotten in the half hour since then, but he inspects every bit of me anyway. I'm wearing the suit the boss picked out, a tight-fitting silvery-grey thing that shimmers a bit when I move, with a dark shirt and a tie the colour of one of those orchids the old man likes. I'm wrapped up just right to appeal to this lawyer, but with Miller's eyes on me it starts feeling like maybe I've been dressed for his benefit, too. When he reaches out and straightens my tie, my breath catches in my throat, and Miller gives a soft little laugh.

"Mind on the job," he says quietly, nodding toward the door.

"'Course." I wink at him as I ring the bell. "Goes without saying."

The door opens, and now Miller's got no need to worry. Now my mind's well and truly on the job. Holt looks pretty much like he did in the picture Miller showed me, only in person the shadows under his eyes look even darker, and the smile on his lips looks even shiftier. He's dressed as well as you'd expect, in a dark double-breasted suit that probably cost more than mine and Miller's put together, with a loosened tie, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He looks about as shady as any lawyer I've ever seen, and I've seen some textbook specimens.

"Mr Holt," Miller says, giving him a big, sunny smile. "Thank you for seeing us at such a late hour."

"Not at all," the lawyer says, with a smile like a shark that's just spotted his lunch. "Come in."

We follow him in, and once we're in the lounge Miller does the introductions, while I stand there checking the place out. I'd expected it to be flashy, but even so it still dazzles me a bit. The whole place is kitted out in dark wood and leather and big heavy tapestry things, and everything seems designed for someone about half a foot taller than me. We sit down on a sofa wide enough to fit the two of us plus a couple of extras, and the lawyer sits across from us in a big leather armchair, looking at Miller like he's deciding what position the golden boy would look best in. And I don't blame him, but I can't help feeling sore, because that's the second time today I've had someone staring right past me at Miller like he's the only guy in the room.

"I'm sure you know why we're here, Mr Holt. I won't waste your time with a lengthy preamble." Miller gives the guy another one of those golden smiles, and with the way Holt looks at him, I'm starting to wonder which one of us is really the sweetener here.

"Mr Turner still hasn't given up on me, then?" the lawyer laughs.

"Far from it." Miller says, folding his hands in his lap. "He still feels that the best place for you is with us, and he's sure you'll come to see things the same way."

"Hmm." Holt looks from Miller to me and back again. "Alright, why don't we have a drink and discuss Mr Turner's proposal?"

Miller turns the volume on that smile all the way up. "I'd like that very much."

"The drinks cabinet's over there." Holt gestures to the opposite wall. "Help yourself."

I glance over to where he pointed, and when I look back, Miller and Holt are both looking at me silently. And you know, I can't help wondering how anyone manages not to die of thirst when I'm not around to do the serving, but I nod and hop to it anyway like a good boy. At least while I'm pouring out three glasses of the most expensive looking whiskey in the cabinet, those two can get the discussing-the-terms bit out of the way. Yeah, maybe I'm impatient to get to the main event, but right now I feel like I'm on standby, and you can't blame a guy for wanting to make himself useful.

"I appreciate that it isn't only a matter of money," Miller's saying when I come back over to them. "But I think you'll agree that the rewards of joining us go far beyond a simple salary."

"Yes, I'm sure they do." Holt smiles, and his eyes move down over the length of Miller's body hungrily enough to give _me_ the shivers, and I'm only watching.

Miller smiles back at him and shifts in his seat a little, leaning back and resting his chin on his hand. When I sit down next to him, he takes his drink from me without breaking eye contact with the lawyer, and takes a long, slow sip. I watch him swallow it, and I watch his lips glistening in the lamplight, and now it feels like I'm the one being tempted. I have to stifle a laugh. Between me and Miller, this guy's got no chance.

"You've heard the sales pitch now," I say, turning back to Holt. "So how about trying the free sample?"

Now the lawyer's looking me straight at me. I down my drink in one go and wipe my mouth off on the back of my hand, and the whole time I feel like those dark eyes are cutting right through me.

"Stand up," he says, setting his glass down. "Let me look at you."

"Sure," I say, and when he gestures for me to turn around, I do it nice and slow, so he can take his time appreciating the rear view. Miller's eyes flit from me to Holt and back again, and when he smiles at me it feels like someone just lit me on fire. I didn't even think to ask before whether he'd be staying while I entertained this guy, but now, with Miller watching my face and Holt looking me over from behind, I don't know who I'm more interested in impressing. Now if Miller tried to leave, I might even ask him to stay.

"Take your jacket off." Holt orders. "The tie, too."

I do as I'm told, and as I'm unfastening my tie, he gets to his feet and comes up to stand in front of me, close enough that I can really feel how much taller and broader than me this guy is. Close enough that I can feel myself getting overheated already, and he hasn't even touched me.

"What do you reckon, then?" I say, bringing one hand up to rest on his lapel. "D'you want to give me a try?"

"You're a gift from Mr Turner," he says, sliding his arm around my waist. "How could I refuse?"

He cups his other hand round the back of my neck and pulls me into a kiss. It's long and deep and slow, like he's savouring me the way he'd take his time with a fancy meal. I can taste the whiskey on his tongue, and by the time he lets me up for air I feel like I've put away a bottle of the stuff myself.

"Not a gift," I murmur. "I'm a loan. A taste of what you'll get if you do what the boss wants."

"Do you know how many boys he's sent me over the years?" Holt says, sliding his hand down to cup my ass.

"Plenty," I start to say, but then he tightens his grip and starts kneading my ass with that big hand, and the word melts away into a moan.

"Dozens." he laughs. "And each one of them thought he'd be the boy to change my mind."

I slide my hand down between us, and when it brushes against the bulge of his cock I have to swallow down a groan. He's already as hard as I am, and I can feel the heat of him through the fabric between us. "Sure, I want to change your mind," I say, pushing forward to grind against his thigh. "But not half as much as I want you to fuck me."

When I drop to my knees, he doesn't stop me, and when I rub my cheek against his cock, he doesn't push me away, but I still feel like he hasn't made up his mind, like any minute now he might decide to call the whole thing off. Which makes me nervous, but more than anything it makes me determined to keep throwing myself into this job until I crack it. So I keep going, bracing myself against his legs while I grind my face against him, rubbing my mouth along the length of his cock, murmuring hungry little noises against the cloth of his trousers, licking at the fabric until it's damp and dark with saliva, until my lips are sore and my throat is aching to be fucked, and when he finally reaches down and takes hold of my hair, when he finally grinds my face that bit harder and rougher against him, it's such a relief I have to stifle a laugh of triumph.

"Alright," he says, letting go of my hair and stepping back. "Let's see what you can do."

He sits down in the armchair and beckons me, and as I crawl over on my knees, he's watching me with the same hungry look he was giving Miller before. Once I'm kneeling in front of him, Holt reaches into his jacket and takes out another cigarette, and when I get my matches out and lean forward to light it for him, he gives a quiet little laugh. "He's well-trained," he says to Miller, over my head like I'm not even there. "How long has Mr Turner had him?"

"Long enough to teach me a few lessons," I say, smirking up at him.

"Is that right?" Holt smiles, leans back in his chair and picks up his drink. "Get to work, then."

He looks down at me with those dark eyes, watching me the whole time while I unfasten his jacket and unbutton his fly, while I take his cock out and wrap my hands around the shaft, while I lean forward to suck on the head of it. I start off slow at first, taking it a little bit at a time, inch by inch like I'm going to string this out all night, but I've got nowhere near enough patience for that. The taste of him goes right to my head, and I can't resist pushing myself down the rest of the way in one stroke, until my throat is full of his cock and my lips are stretched around the base of it. Holt keeps on watching me, smiling down at me as I start to move again, as I slide my lips up and down along his shaft a little quicker and rougher each time. I keep my eyes fixed on his, even when my throat's straining to take him and I'm struggling not to choke. I want him to see everything, every twinge of discomfort and every flicker of pleasure in my eyes. I want him to see all the effort and hunger and satisfaction that rushes through me when I do this. I want him to see how hard I'm working, and how much I'm loving every minute of it. I want him to understand exactly what he's passing up, every time he turns the boss's offer down.

"That's right, take it all," he says quietly, like he's talking to himself, and one of those broad hands slips down to cup the back of my neck. It's so warm and firm and heavy, I can't help thinking about how those fingers would feel inside me, how I bet even three of them would be enough to get me whimpering and squirming and pushing back against his knuckles. Just the thought of it makes me groan. He guides me down all the way, until my throat is full of his cock and my face is buried in his lap, until I'm moaning against him and clinging onto his thighs with both hands.

"You like that, don't you?" Holt says, and his voice is so warm with approval that I feel like someone just handed me a bonus cheque. Yeah, I like it, alright, and I'm not going to hold back one bit tonight. He likes his boys shameless, does he? Well, I'll show him shameless. I'm going to make the other boys he's had courtesy of the boss look like a bunch of awkward first-timers.

"And what about you?" he says, and it takes me a minute to realise he's talking to Miller. "Are you really content just to observe?"

"Oh, quite content. He's a pleasure to watch." Miller laughs softly. "And besides, I never handle external matters myself."

"Is that so?" Holt says, and for the first time tonight he really sounds like he might be wavering. Yeah, I really am just the hors d'oeuvre here, aren't I? Just a little something to whet his appetite, so he'll sign up for the main course that bit quicker. I should've seen that coming a mile off.

"That's right," I answer for Miller, pulling back just enough to speak, and I keep my fist tight around the lawyer's cock, stroking him firm and slow while I talk. "You don't get a taste of him until your name's on the dotted line. _I'm_ the one who handles guys like you."

Holt chuckles. "Guys like me?"

"Guys who haven't figured out what's in their own best interests yet."

"Oh, is that right?" He looks down at me, fixing me with those dark, smiling eyes. "And what exactly _is_ in my best interests, in your opinion?"

"In my opinion," I say, getting up to my feet. "You'd be a fool to turn down what the boss is offering you."

He doesn't reply. He just watches as I start undressing, and he keeps on watching as I keep on talking.

"You could have this every night," I say, as I shuck off my shirt and get started on my belt. "If you made the right decision."

Holt's eyes are all over me, over the bare skin of my chest and stomach, over my legs as I kick off my shoes and trousers, over my ass as I bend over to get the lube out of my jacket, and by the time I kneel down again to lube him up, he's staring down at me like he's about ready to eat me alive.

"The entertainment the boss's laid on for you so far…" I say, slicking my hand over the length of his cock until it's wet and glistening. "That's nothing compared to how well looked-after you'd be if you were on the payroll."

I turn around and reach back to lube myself up, and I keep my eyes fixed on his while I talk. "You'd be swimming in boys…" I carry on, letting him hear the hitch in my voice as I slide one finger into my ass. "As many as you liked—punks like me, pretty boys, whatever you fancied…" I murmur, leaning forward to brace one arm against the coffee table, spreading my legs a bit wider, watching his face as I push a second finger in alongside the first. Then I look up at Miller and flash him a grin. "Even the soft, clerical type…"

Holt still doesn't say a word, but when I look back at him, I can see how much he wants a piece of me. I can see the hunger in his eyes, I can see exactly what he thinks of me and what he'd like to do to me, and that gets me so worked up that I can't resist slipping a hand down to stroke myself. Maybe he can't see me do it, maybe I should hold off until I'm spread out underneath him where he can watch every minute, but I can't resist anymore. I work my fist slowly over my cock while I slide another finger into my ass, and when a moan wells up in my throat I let it right out, loud and desperate and as shameless as it could get.

"Come here," Holt orders, and his tone might be low and quiet, but it's as much an order as anything I've ever had barked at me. I'm on my feet before he says another word.

"Gladly," I say, as I climb up onto his lap. I arrange myself with my back to him, and as I sit astride him, the lawyer puts his drink down and grabs hold of my waist with those big hands. Maybe he's happy to let me do all the work, but I guess he's not going to wait forever for this to get started. He holds onto me as I sink down onto his cock, watching as I impale myself inch by inch, and when I'm halfway down it he groans deep and harsh enough to get me squirming just from the sound of it. I keep going, shifting and rocking my hips until I've taken the whole of his cock, and then I throw him a long, hot look over my shoulder.

"Maybe you've had dozens of the boss's boys…" I say, reaching back to cup the cheeks of my ass with both hands, spreading them wide open as I start to ride him. "But you've never had one who loves cock as much as me."

"You might be right," Holt laughs, but there's another one of those rough groans mixed in with the laughter, and his hands tighten up around my waist like he's trying to bruise me.

I lean forward, bracing myself against the lawyer's legs, and I throw Miller a smirk. He's watching me about as intently as Holt is, only the golden boy's wearing the smug smile of someone who can have a taste of this whenever he feels like it. I might be bait for guys like Holt, but Miller's got me on tap, and he knows it. The way he looks at me, the pride and envy and approval all mixed up together, anyone'd think it was him who trained me. Anyone'd think it was _him_ I was performing for. I know he's not going to lay a finger on me tonight, but I can't help thinking how good it'd be if only his self-control would just snap, just this once. If only he'd come over here and grab hold of my hair, if only he'd order me to suck his cock, the way he would if we were alone. He'd give me a slap no matter which way I answered, and it'd be the sharp backhand type he's picked up from the boss, hard enough to make my head spin and get me begging for it before I'd even gotten a taste of him. He'd force my head down, digging those manicured nails right into my neck like he was trying to draw blood, and he'd fuck my throat until I was coughing and shuddering around him, until I was groaning and pawing at myself, and he'd mock me for it the whole time, telling me what a whore I am for loving it, what a filthy little degenerate I am for wanting to be fucked at both ends and filled up with cock, how I'm just gutter trash, just a piece of meat, how I'm good for nothing but getting fucked and beaten and used, how I'd let anyone fuck me if the boss told me to, how I'd service a dozen guys like Holt and still be begging for more, how—

"On your feet," the lawyer says, clamping a hand on the back of my neck. I move with him as he stands up, trying not to stumble, and when Holt bends me over the sofa next to Miller I have the clench my fists to stop myself reaching out to touch him.

"Give it to me…" I moan, looking back over my shoulder at Holt. He's staring right at Miller as he fucks me, and the look in his eyes is so hot and hungry that I feel almost proud of the golden boy for stoking up that kind of fire. "Come on, don't hold back, give it to me…" I beg, throwing myself back onto the lawyer's cock with the same force he's dishing out, and when he looks down at me, I hold his gaze and give him a long, hot look of my own. "Fuck me like you'd fuck _him._ "

"I'll fuck you any way I want," Holt says, slapping my ass hard enough to make me squirm. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"Any way you want," I moan, nodding. "Anything you want, I'll do anything…"

"Kneel there and take it," he says, grabbing a handful of my ass and squeezing hard, like he's trying to leave his fingerprints on me. "That's all you need to do."

He fucks me in long, hard thrusts, holding my waist in one hand and spreading my ass wide open with the other, pounding into me with about as much care as he'd give his own fist. Every time his hips slam against me, it's like being thrown back against a brick wall, and it's all I can do to cling onto the back of the sofa and try to brace myself for the next stroke. I turn my head a little so I can see Miller's face, so I can see how much he's enjoying the sight, and the way he looks at me, the way he smiles that sharp golden smile at me, he doesn't even have to say the words, I know exactly what he's thinking: _Filthy little whore, can’t get enough of his cock, can you?_ I can almost hear him saying the words, just like he has so many times before, smooth and vicious and cold and perfect. I want to reach out and touch him, I want to lean over and rub my face against Miller's lap, I want to feel how hard all this is making him, I want to beg him to fuck my mouth while Holt's fucking my ass, but all I can do is just kneel here staring up at him, hoping he can read my face as well as I can read his, hoping that when the lawyer's done with me he'll want a turn of his own, hoping that he won't leave me hanging all night.

"That's right, take it," Holt groans, and that hand on my waist tightens up like he wants to snap me in two. He slams into me hard and fast as he comes, making me yelp and cry out with the force of it, making me wince and tremble with each thrust, until he's done with me, until he's spent and pushing me aside like he's throwing a bit of rubbish away. As soon as he's pulled out, it's like he's forgotten I was even here at all. He just nods at Miller and disappears off into one of the other rooms, leaving me and the golden boy alone.

"What d'you think, then?" I say, as I push myself up off the sofa and onto my feet. "Did we win him over?"

"Perhaps." Miller stands up and puts an arm out to steady me, which is just as well, since my legs feel like I really did put away a bottle of that whiskey on my own.

"What about you?" I say, smirking up at him. "Would you buy it?"

"That's a silly question," he laughs, and that hand moves gently down across my back, down to rest on the curve of my ass. "Why would I buy a piece of trash my uncle already owns?"

I'm just about to tell Miller what I think of that line, when Holt comes back into the living room. He's swapped his suit jacket for a big fancy dressing gown now, all embroidered silk and velvet, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for a second round.

"Why don't you go and get cleaned up?" Miller says, putting his hand back on my arm. "I'll wrap things up in here."

"Sure," I say, flashing the two of them a grin. "Only it'll take a lot to clean _me_ up."

I make myself scarce as soon as Holt tells me where the guest bathroom is, and it's only once I'm in the shower that it dawns on me that I've left Miller alone with a guy who looks like he'd sign over a lot more than his professional services for a crack at the golden boy. Miller could be giving the lawyer a private consultation right now, just the two of them. He could have those heavy hands all over him. He could be spread out on that sofa, all bare smooth skin and soft blond hair, coaxing Holt into an encore, taking everything I've just taken and then some. He could be on his hands and knees, giving Holt everything he usually saves for the boss and Joe, giving it everything he's got, anything to close this deal. The thought of that gets me hot enough that for a minute I wonder whether I've got time to take care of myself before the two of them start wondering where I am. For a minute I almost don't care.

"Mind on the job," I mutter to myself as I get out of the shower, as if saying it's going to make it any easier to do. "Mind on the job."

By the time I've gotten dressed and headed back into the living room, Holt's sitting back in that big leather armchair and getting started on a fresh drink, and Miller's on his feet, getting started on the wrap-up bit of his spiel.

"If you change your mind, please do get in touch."

"Of course." Holt says, standing up. "Tell Mr Turner I'm sorry I can't agree to his proposal."

"I will." Miller nods and gives the lawyer another one of those big, sunny smiles, and then the two of us follow him over to the door. Miller goes out first, and I'm right behind him, but as I'm crossing over the threshold the curiosity gets too much, and I turn around.

"Hey, Mr Holt," I say, leaning against the doorframe. "What's the other side giving you that's so good you can't make up your mind?"

"Almost exactly the same things that Mr Turner sends me." Holt smiles, and looks right past me at Miller. "But perhaps not quite as high quality."

Then he shuts the door in my face, and Miller grabs hold of my arm.

"Come on," he says, pulling me down the corridor toward the lift.

"What's your hurry? We're done for tonight, aren't we?"

The lift doors open, and Miller shoves me inside. "Oh no," he says, with one of those sharp little smiles that makes my skin tingle. "We're far from done."

I let him push me back against the wall of the lift, and once he's pressed up against me, I look up at him and give him a little push in the chest. "Oh yeah?"

Miller grabs hold of my wrist and pulls my hand down to his groin, rubbing my palm across the bulge of his cock. "Do you think you can put on that kind of show, and not take responsibility for this?"

"Maybe," I say, smirking up at those cold blue eyes. "Who's going to stop me?"


End file.
